I found myself wondering two different things recently. First, why is it that no matter how tough the bristles on the scrubber side of the mop are, and no matter how briskly you rub, your finger nail works much better at lifting that little piece of melted cheese from the floor? Why not make the scrubber side of the mob out of Lee Press-on Nails?

Second, and this is the kind of thought you think when you’re mindlessly mopping, has there ever been a dopier song than 1968’s “Honey,” by Bobby Goldsboro? “Honey” was at the top of the Billboard charts for 5 weeks about his time 43 years ago, and is one of those tear-jerker, my-wife-died-and-now-I’m-lonely songs, but with a really weird twist. The song’s narrator is, without a doubt, the most insensitive jackass who ever lived in any 3 minutes and 55 seconds of any pop song anywhere. The woman, “Honey,” who is the subject of the song, would have been better off married to Bad, Bad Leroy Brown.

Anyway, the narrator/singer laughs at Honey for planting a tree, then rushes outside to brush the snow off the tree for fear that it will die. She runs back inside where she “slipped and almost hurt herself” whereupon the narrator—her husband—“laughed till I cried.” What? Even as an 11 year-old hearing this song, I imagined this jackass standing over this poor woman sprawled on the kitchen linoleum in a snowy puddle, laughing at her misery. It’s not her fault that she slipped, and it’s not her fault that she apparently had very little arboreal training since most trees are designed to withstand the snow, but that’s no excuse for his behavior. So anyway, Husband treats Honey pretty badly for about two years after the tree incident, and then she up and dies. Again, at 11, I always imagined that it was from complications from that fall, and now Husband feels lonely.

If you’ve never heard this song before, or if you are a masochist, I present “Honey,” complete with the lyrics and Bobby Goldsboro’s hair. Don’t listen to this while you mop because you might turn the mop on yourself and try to scrub your ears off.

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About Austin Gisriel

You know the guy that records a baseball game from the West Coast in July and doesn't watch it until January just to see baseball in the winter? That's me. I'm a writer always in search of a good story, baseball or otherwise.

8 Responses to Worst Song, Ever

I had forgotten about this song, and never really listened to the words. They’re atrociously funny-bad! You’re absolutely right, the worst song ever! This is the funniest article you’ve ever written Austin. I laughed out loud many times. Thank you for your unique take on life, it never disappoints, LOL!!!

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Ambitious Enterprises
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David Stinson's author blog
Please visit my buddy and fellow author David Stinson’s site. He has a real eye for baseball’s past; in fact, he sees it!

Deadball Baseball
Based on David Stinson’s novel, Deadball: A Metaphysical Baseball Novel

History: Preserved
This is a wonderful blog that often covers the home front during World War II, especially the recipes that were used to compensate for rationing. i had the privilege of meeting the author, Sarah Lee, at the 2017 WIlliamsport World War II Weekend.

Off the Beaten Basepaths & other videos
OTBB takes you to baseball treasures that are little known, underappreciated, or simply off the beaten basepaths! Subscribe now through Youtube so you don’t miss an episode.

Places We Have Played Album
My non-genetic twin, Al Smith, and I like to play in as many interesting ballparks, big and small, as we can find. Here’s our “collection.”

Sarah Sundin
Sarah is a World War II romance novelist who gets her history correct! Lots of good information on her blog.